The Reversible Drama

The garden looks forlorn
and lost, nothing remains but the
memory of what it was. It has
lost its lustre and its reason
leaving us pensively viewing
its sad and sullen transformation
from transcendent beauty in
form and colour, exciting our
pleasure, to its newly grim
grey dessication. From oasis
of fresh green and the impetuous
appearance of exotic floral 
displays to monochromatic
desert, all too abruptly, as
though time and nature had
failed to better prepare us for 
this reversible seasonal drama. 
The tiny flying creatures of the
garden are in mourning, themselves
preparing for the inevitable.
Overhead the sky conveys
southward-beating wings to
their migratory escape, leaving
native species to forage among
scarce offerings once the landscape
has succumbed to winter white.